


burger time

by aeuire, Jstriker



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akira is a Troll, Comedy, Crack, Enemies to Lovers, First Dates, Gen, Graphic depictions of Food, M/M, NG+, based off of that One text that goro sent in p5r, critical hit to the gut writing this, totally not clickbait, u know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeuire/pseuds/aeuire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jstriker/pseuds/Jstriker
Summary: Kurusu Akira and Akechi Goro go on a cute first date in Shibuya.The date is very cute. And it is in Shibuya. Ah, yes, how romantic!
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	burger time

**Author's Note:**

> j+t: REPRESENT :))  
> j-t: written from the perspective of two people who revel in dunking on goro akechi’s haircut  
> j+t: goro akechi if ur reading this PLS cut ur hair.. this is not a hate crime we promise  
> j-t: just kidding this is a Threat. anyways stan ryuji sakamoto!!)
> 
> note: pls do not take this seriously, Please Do Not We Are Begging You

_I’m alone right now._

The text is very concerning. It can either be an invitation to a night of homoerotic tension… or an invitation to getting murdered. (Again.) Though, considering that it’s still only July, the latter can’t possibly be the case so soon… can it? Which means it’s the former. (Or Akira may be completely off the mark, but what would the third option be?)

(...both?)

Akira quickly shakes his head to dispel the thoughts, clicking on the text notification. _I see,_ he responds to Akechi’s ambiguous message.

His eloquent reply is met with a good five minutes of Akechi typing on the other line.

_Ah, do you now? Well, it seems I’ve found myself with a bit of free time on my hands. Should you feel inclined, perhaps you’d like to meet me here in Shibuya?_

_Sure,_ Akira types out. He thinks about asking Akechi where, exactly, in Shibuya he would like for them to meet, considering how expansive the area is, but ultimately decides against it. Akechi’s a detective; he’ll figure it out.

_Wonderful! I’ll be there soon. In the next fifteen minutes, I’d wager._

Akira heaves a sigh, rising from his seat on the bed. He can do fifteen minutes if he leaves right now. The invitation is certainly on a short notice—but thankfully, Yongen isn't too far from Shibuya.

And the fare is covered by his student ID, which is definitely a plus. He’s already broke enough as it is from buying out every vending machine in Tokyo for the Phantom Thieves’ Palace ventures. Many passersby had given Akira strange looks as he shuffled back on the train to Yongen-Jaya, arms and school bag full of soda cans, but he was only doing what he needed to. He prays that no one was too inconvenienced by his purchases. Hopefully, Morgana won’t try to break into the soda stash while he’s out…

...He forgot Morgana. Fuck.

This can either be very good or very bad _._ On one hand, Morgana nags very often, and it’s nice to have a respite from the mouthy little cat. At the same time, though, Morgana also serves as his voice of reason, since Akira—and he quotes— _clearly has no self-preservation._

(But, _shit,_ dude, the cat ain’t wrong.)

Akira quickly dresses himself in the last clean outfit he has—wow, he _really_ should do laundry again soon—which happens to be a black T-shirt with the words _gotta go kiss the homie later_ printed on it in bold pink text (a gag gift from Ryuji), along with a pair of formerly-white joggers (a serious gift from Ann) that had been stained pink by some other red article of clothing… ah yes, some red boxer briefs, if he recalls correctly. All in all, Akira looks like a pretentious e-boy snob. He can almost hear Morgana calling him a whore in his whiny little cat voice.

Oh, he needs a beanie to complete the look. With that thought in mind, Akira snatches a knit beanie from his drawer as well. Now, he’s an Absolute Fucking Whore in a fuckboy beanie. Morgana would be reeling in revulsion if he’d gotten the chance to see the monstrosity of his current fashion choice.

(Anti e-boy Morgana… maybe the cat does have some rights.)

Vindictively, Akira throws on a silver chain as well. Morgana can suck it.

Shibuya during midday is a bustling, clamorous city, as per usual. Akira hovers around Central Street, flitting from store to store before he’s tapped on the shoulder. “Kurusu-kun! What a pleasant surprise.” The detective gives a light chuckle when Akira turns around, proceeding to turn his head to cough into his fist.

Akira swears he can make out a “whore” being muttered through that cough. He snorts, pushing his dark shades up his nose. (Yes, he truly is devoting himself to the look.) “Don’t give me that,” he accuses, jabbing a finger into the detective’s chest, though his tone betrays his underlying amusement. Who cares if Akechi is uncomfortable with the proximity? The little fucker deserves to _squirm._ “You were the one who invited me out today.” He doesn’t remove the shades from his face, despite the fact that they aren’t standing under direct sunlight anymore. If Akechi thinks it’s rude, he, too, can go suck it with Morgana.

Akechi only gives him an angelic smile in response. “Did I, now?”

Because the caramel-haired (read: greasy-haired) boy (monstrosity) did not specify their exact destination in Shibuya in their texts, Akira assumes that he either is:

  1. plotting something nefarious, or
  2. clueless as to where they should go.



Akira will go ahead and assume it’s 2. Since he’s getting very sweaty in his joggers, Akira decides that it is time to finally taste the sweet, sweet A/C once more. The building closest to them is Big Bang Burger. Perfect. “Are you vegan, Akechi?”

“...I am not, though I am unsure as to why you are asking me that.” Akechi’s a fat fucking liar. He _totally_ knows why. They’re literally standing in front of Big Bang Burger; even a grade schooler can deduce Akira’s reason for asking that question.

“In that case, would you like to sample some utterly astronomical ground sirloin with yours truly?” He even winks for the best results. His Charm stat is already maxed out, so it should have a profound effect.

Akechi, to his credit, does not blush. His facial expression does not even _change._ Maybe he’s too accustomed to Akira’s bullshit at this point. “That sounds delightful,” the detective replies politely, and the blasted smile _still_ doesn’t leave his face (gross). _Gross._ “I would be honored to dine with you at such a… ah, _novel_ place.” He eyes Big Bang Burger, and Akira can practically _sense_ the other boy’s disdain. Of course he’d be disdainful of a burger joint; the guy’s a pompous child detective. He probably eats 12,000 yen caviar every meal of the day. Bitch.

(Truth be told, though, if Akira had 12,000 yen to waste for every meal of the day, he’d probably be doing the same damn thing—even if he has no clue what caviar tastes like—and to be frank, he’d probably hate it. Perhaps it’s time for the Phantom Thieves’ newest mission: Eating The Rich.)

“Lovely. Let’s go inside,” Akira says, simpering and graciously holding the door open for Akechi like the _gentleman_ he is. He truly is that charming, isn’t he? Akechi’s eyes crinkle at the corners—fake ass bitch—and he steps in without so much as a _thank-you._ What an asshole.

“I have not been to an establishment like this before.” Okay, way to rub his social status in. Akira rolls his eyes internally as Akechi continues on. “Would you, perhaps, do me a favor and order for me?” His eyes crinkle again. Akira hates it. Akira hates _him. Bastard._

“No problem,” Akira says, his tone carefully neutral so as to not betray the sudden stroke of inspiration that strikes in that moment. _No problem at all,_ Akira thinks vindictively as he orders the greasiest fucking burgers—burgers greasier than Akechi Goro himself, greasy worm man supreme—with a smarmy grin on his face.

“Please enjoy,” the girl at the counter says cheerfully, and Akira wants to laugh. Oh, he’ll _enjoy_ it, alright. He turns away (and the girl has to stop herself from snorting out loud and losing her shit because Jesus Christ, this black-haired guy looks absolutely _ridiculous!)._

A few minutes later, the two of them are seated at a booth, their meals in front of them. Akechi hasn’t even touched his food.

“Oh, Akechi-kun, is the food not to your liking?” Akira asks, concern feigned in his voice. He’s a spectacular actor. “Here, have a fry! I’m sure it will stimulate your appetite.” Akira bathes a fry in the Big Bang Burger **SPICE** -ialty Sauce™, and before Akechi can react, just barely opening his mouth to protest, Akira shoves the aforementioned fry into the other boy’s mouth.

“Mmf—”

“So? How does it taste?”

“...” Akechi somehow manages to swallow it, though he looks simultaneously green and red while doing so. It seems he wants to go off (and maybe die a little, too), but he’s holding himself back. Which makes sense considering they’re in the presence of others and Akechi is a _public figure._ The brunet clears his throat. “I do not have words for its… unique taste. It was most certainly,” he seems very ill as he says this, _“interesting.”_

“Was it? I’m glad. Here, have another.”

This time, Akechi is ready to fend Akira off and bats the hand containing the offending fry away. “I think I’m quite alright.” Akechi’s voice is saccharine, and his smile is so forced that it looks completely out of place on Akechi’s dainty, _princely_ face. (Damnit, he got sauce on his hand…)

“No, no, I insist!” Akira says, twisting his hand underneath Akechi’s defensive stance and popping the sauce-soggy fry right into his mouth.

Akechi, realizing that nothing is stopping him from spitting the fry into his napkin (except for his dignity), spits the fry into his napkin. His poker face is absolutely immaculate; all the previous signs of his nausea are now all but gone from his expression. The only indications that he is still affected are the flaming tips of his ears—likely a result of the extremely spicy sauce.

_How do you feel, Akechi?_ Akira thinks almost vengefully. Maybe he’s being too kind; force-feeding Akechi very spicy, grease-covered fries when said boy has a very low spice tolerance and distaste for cheap fast food is nowhere near the level of committing homicide countless times.

Though, to be fair, Akira is mostly only salty about the fact that Akechi managed to kill him successfully in the interrogation room. That’s why he’s here right now, after all. Akira _needs_ this gratification after being shot by the guy.

Akechi, on the other hand, is Suffering™. “Kurusu-kun,” Akechi starts after dabbing the sauce from his mouth with a fresh napkin, “have I done something to offend you?”

“Not at all.” Akira’s grisly smile is almost enough to send a chill down the detective’s spine—keyword being _almost._ Clearly, the bespectacled boy is lying, but Akechi has not yet deduced why, exactly, Akira seems to dislike him. This cannot be about their display at the TV station, can it? Is Akira truly that diehard of a fan of the elusive Phantom Thieves? No, that cannot be it. Akechi grimaces internally.

It may be possible that Akechi truly underestimated the extent to which Akira cared for the Phantom Thieves. He prides himself on being fairly good at reading people, but Akira’s personality is difficult to get a grasp on. And now, staring at Akira’s clearly devious expression, Akechi can feel himself beginning to have Regrets About This. But—no, he cannot back down here. With ironclad willpower, Akechi grabs a fry and dips it into the Cursed Sauce himself with one stiff motion, shoving it into his mouth before he can regret his decisions further.

_This,_ he thinks sardonically as he suppresses the urge to gag, _must be what death feels like._

**Author's Note:**

> And then Akira drags him out and beats this hijo de puta’s ass behind the Big Bang Burger. He proceeds to go back inside to pick up another burger order. It’s Burger Time™.
> 
> The End.


End file.
